


Don't Let the Bedbugs Bite

by graceformee



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-24
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2018-02-26 21:01:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2666222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graceformee/pseuds/graceformee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A flighty broad and an insufferable prick are left to fend for themselves in a dying world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Let the Bedbugs Bite

**Author's Note:**

> In which I follow my friends' advice for the first time and put some dusty plot ideas to work.  
> Enjoy.

One, two, three, breathe.

One, two, three, breathe. 

His breathing is constant, you notice. His chest heaves in and out slightly as he snores just so faintly. You wonder if you are just as a light sleeper as he is.

One, two, three, breathe.

Your eyes wander up to his face. So peaceful, so calm, so...docile. You wonder what he is dreaming about.

Your train of thought dates back to all those months ago, as you two first met. He never showed any part of his eyes, even as he slept. 

_“My eyes? They just aren’t human, that’s all.”_

 Time passes and both of your memories of what exactly is human cease to exist. All you have left is Dave, and yourself. Eventually, he chooses to wear his shades less. Not that he is now more comfortable, no. He is just...growing less prone to the light.

 " _The better to see you with, Gretel.”_

_“I do not believe you may be using those terms correctly.”_

_“Whatever.”_

 You can scope out every nook and cranny of his face. The shadows of his gold eyelashes dance just beneath his eyes, following the flames of the campfire beside you. Faint freckles dot his cheeks ever so faintly, and you wonder if he had attained those freckles before it all started. His cracked lips quiver occasionally as he breathes, and you can smell his musty breath, barely masking what both of you shared for dinner earlier-

-and you realize that you are lying too close to him.

Pursing your lips, you roll off your side and watch the stars instead. You don’t love him. You can’t.

" _It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lalonde.”_

_"Oh, but the pleasure is all mine, Strider.”_

One, two, three, breathe.

You don’t think you love him. No, he just is basically the only other living human you know. Just another source of warmth, just a person to talk to. Just a partner in survival. A friend. A companion. Yes, that is it. Nothing more. But you are independent. You have been all your life. You can live without him, can you?

One, two, three, breathe.

One, two, three, breathe.

One, two, three, four. Breathe.

You don't think so.


End file.
